Thursday, February 13, 2014
That sweet little dog...is a liar
Last month, Coco was doggie-napped from our yard and I literally cried one evening as I looked at her collection of balls laying on the floor. She is a full fledged member of the family and we were the recipients of an actual miracle when the neighborhood 'napper brought her back.
But I digress...
Untold hours have been spent chasing balls that have rolled under furniture and out of reach of my dog. We have a corner cabinet in the kitchen with a space below it that is about 5 or 6 inches tall, and about 18" deep. Every time the ball is thrown anywhere in that general direction, Murphy's Law causes it to roll under that corner cabinet. Immediately, Coco starts her pitiful cry for a hero to come to her aid and get the ball. She has done that hundreds of times, for years.
Conned into throwing the ball yet again, I flung it and it bounced toward the kitchen...Coco was elated and raced after it. Anticipating it would go under the cabinet once again, I got up from my desk and started to walk toward the kitchen where I witnessed the most skillful poodle moves I've ever seen. Coco spun around the corner and slid across the hardwood floor. As her curly carcass was gliding toward the corner, she lowered her head close to the floor and flattened her whole body and gracefully went under the cupboard and snatched the ball. Pulling herself up and turning around, our eyes locked on each other. It was a like a neon sign that said LIAR was flashing above her head - and she knew she was caught.
That dirty dog was lying to me all along. She didn't need any help getting that ball; probably ever. She had been human training and the game was "fetch." Did I get a cookie for that - no!
Now I'm questioning all aspects of her behavior. Does she really need me to open the door to go out? Is she the one who leaves dishes in the sink? Did she eat all the cheddar cheese and smoked ham? And what about those lights that are left on by some mysterious unknown entity?
I've got every right to be peeved, as I've logged miles running after that ball that I threw. Tomorrow morning, I'm attaching the ball to a rope, and the rope to the bumper of my hubby's truck before he goes to work. It's only a twenty-five mile drive (highway, ha ha).
Fetch, Coco. See you at five o'clock.
[Update: Dear PETA - We did not actually make our dog chase a ball tied to my husband's truck as it barreled down the freeway. My husband didn't go to work today due to the weather. In lieu of that, we made 100 snow balls and played fetch. Score one for humans.]